


Fairly Stupid Tale

by MrsHamill



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Crack, First Time, M/M, Multi, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-06
Updated: 2009-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-21 12:36:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6051868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsHamill/pseuds/MrsHamill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fusion with the fairy tale "East'o the Sun, West'o the Moon". Very silly and filled with character assassinations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fairly Stupid Tale

**Author's Note:**

> I've managed to crack up everyone who's read this, including my beta, so that's a good sign, I suppose. Firefly says it should be a drinking game: every time John says something doofy, drink! every time Rodney whines, drink! but I won't press that on anybody. Beta by the wondrous Sandgnat, but if there are mistakes or if you hate it, blame me.

A long time ago, in a land far away, there were two people who were married but had no children. They were, understandably, rather upset about that. Given that the land in which they lived had fairly primitive medical care, they were unable to go to a fertility specialist, so they resorted, finally, to a bit more arcane means.

"You want us to _what?_ " asked the husband, at some force.

"Capture a fairy," the wife replied patiently. "Look, it's either you or me or both of us, but we're not getting any younger and we both want a child before we get too old to change diapers. So, we nab us a fairy and wish for a child and _hey presto!_ , we've got a kid. We can ask for a beautiful baby girl so we can get her married off to a local prince, and she can keep us in the style we'd like to become accustomed to."

The husband scrubbed his face with his hands. "There you go again, dreaming about royalty."

"Look, it worked for my great-great-grandmother," she began, but he cut her off, having heard this argument many times over. "Fine, we'll do it, provided you have the first idea how to _catch_ a damned fairy."

It took some doing. She'd read some books and consulted some Old Wives, who mostly contradicted each other. A couple, however, pointed her in the direction of some Older Grannies. Some of them had a few ideas which seemed a bit out there, but more in-line with what the books said. And a couple of _them_ pointed her to an even Older Granny, who was apparently something of an expert.

"You want to _what_?" this Oldest Granny demanded as soon as the wife walked in. "You are crazy, get out of my cave." (Yes, she was living in a cave, but it was very cozy.)

"Please, you're our only hope," the wife pleaded. "We've tried everything else."

"You say that but I bet you haven't." The Oldest Granny (who's name was _not_ Obi-Wan) ran her fingers through her crazy hair. "No good is going to come of this, you mark my words. But it should prove to be mildly entertaining and I've been utterly bored with _Battlestar Galactica_ on repeats. Okay, fine. Wait here." 

The Oldest Granny walked to the back of her cave and pulled some books down and scribbled something on some scrap paper. After about ten minutes, she came back and handed the wife a little scroll of parchment. "There you go. You are incredible moron for this, you know. Make sure you are very specific in your request, and do not come crying to me when this all backfires at you. Now go, _General Hospital_ is about to start."

The wife was very, very grateful and scurried off with the instructions. She and her husband studied them at length and followed them to the letter, which was rather difficult, since they involved a great deal of very embarrassing and arcane instructions. 

Here's the thing, though, the thing everyone warned them about (and they conveniently forgot in their utter desperation): it is extremely difficult to catch a fairy, and if you _do_ , you might get one that's more than a little pissed off at being that easy to catch. And a fairy that pissed... well, you do not want to catch or even talk to pissy fairy. 

She was also hungover.

Immediately after they spoke the last word of the cantrip, they heard a moan behind them. "Christ, that's the last time I do shots with that bastard, he's got a hollow leg." 

The husband and wife turned and saw a remarkable person sitting on the ground behind them. They couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman, but it had purple hair covered in silver glitter, clothing that defied description (and burned the retina), and a smell that made their heads woozy even at twenty-five feet. 

She (he? it?) shook -- okay, her -- head and seemed to finally realize where she was. "What the _hell_?" She ungracefully got to her feet and turned. "Oh _fuck me_ , mundanes? I got tailed by _mundanes_? I am _never_ going to live this down!" She moaned the last few words and cradled her head in her hands. "I need a cigarette."

The husband and wife, completely nonplussed, gaped at her. Now that they had their fairy, they really had no idea what to do with her.

Producing a cigarette from somewhere and a lighter from somewhere else, the fairy lit up and took a deep drag. "Awright, whaddaya want then, let's not drag this unpleasantness out any more than it has to be." She rubbed her temple. "By Liberace's cloak, if anybody sees me, I will have to kill myself." She stood waiting, puffing on her cigarette, but when the couple in front of her remained in jaw-dropping silence, she began snapping her fingers. "C'mon, c'mon! Step it up already! Whaddaya want? Money? Fame? Castles? What?!"

"Oh!" The wife said, startled, as if goosed. "A child! We... we can't... we want..."

"A baby!" The husband said. "We've... we can't... we've been trying, we can't..."

"Trying, yeah, right," the fairy muttered. "Praying every night, I bet you have. There's bodily fluids involved too, yanno."

The wife pulled herself up, affronted. "We know that! We just can't... conceive. We've tried everything. We want a baby. A beautiful--"

"Oh, here we go again," the husband said, rolling his eyes. "Just like your great-great-grandmother, who married the prince and became a queen--"

"Waitaminute," the fairy said, narrowing her eyes. "You've got royal blood? Then why the hell are you doing a damned summoning--"

"There was a drought," the wife said, frowning. "And a depression after the crusade. Then dragons came, you know, a hostile takeover." She turned her frown on her husband. "And there's nothing wrong with beauty."

"But brains are just as, if not more than, important," the husband retorted. "Your great-great-grandmother Meredith might have held the kingdom together better if she'd been smarter, and you know it."

"But she wouldn't have married the prince if she hadn't been beautiful, and you know that!" the wife said heatedly. "And if we want to become a little wealthier than we are--"

"Oh for Tinker Bell's augmented tits, put a lid on it!" the fairy moaned. "I get it, you want a brat named Meredith with beauty and brains -- _FINE_. You got it. Now let me go already."

"What?" wife asked, breathlessly, turning to the fairy.

"What?" husband asked, breathlessly, turning to the fairy.

"I said, you got it. A brat with beauty and brains named Meredith. Coming in nine months. Just let me outta here already!" The fairy dropped her cigarette on the ground and crushed it with her glass slipper as she rubbed one eye with her hand, smearing her purple glitter eyeshadow. "Oi, I gotta find out what was in those margaritas -- must have been drain cleaner." 

"Of course, we release you, but we don't even know your name... we should thank..." wife gasped, excited beyond measure.

As the fairy disappeared in a flash of glitter and patchouli oil, they heard, "What, you think I _want_ you to know?" 

The wife turned to the husband and they embraced, laughing with delight.

* * *

Nine months and a lot of pushing later, the midwife looked up at the wife and husband and said, "Congratulations! It's a boy!"

They looked at each other in horror. "A boy?" the husband said weakly. "No, it can't be..."

The midwife was busily wiping off the child, cooing to him (and yeah, it was definitely a him) and getting ready to cut the cord. "What are you going to name him? Such a handsome little lad."

The wife, just getting her wind back from pushing, thought she was going to be sick. "Meredith," she murmured, "Her -- his name is Meredith."

The midwife looked up and blinked. "Oh, but isn't that a girl's name?"

The husband closed his eyes and sat heavily in the chair by the bed. "You would think so," he muttered.

* * *

Aside from the gender issue (and in retrospect, they realized they hadn't been explicitly explicit) the fairy had definitely kept up her bargain. Little Meredith was exceedingly beautiful and exceedingly smart. He was talking by the time he was one, and expounding by the time he was two. Reading came easy to him and by the time he was five, he had read every book in his village. By the time he was ten, he had read every book within a hundred miles of his home.

He was quite brilliant and unfortunately, didn't mind telling everyone of that fact. His parents came clean about the fairy affair when Meredith was five and demanded to know why he had a girl's name, and after that, he treated his parents with a barely concealed contempt most times. His father and mother unfortunately felt they deserved it and so said nothing to contradict it. 

When Meredith (or, as he insisted on being called, Rodney, since his father had at least given him a proper male middle name) was fourteen, his mother became pregnant again. Meredith was suspicious but his parents assured him no fairy was involved, they were as surprised as anyone. They had a girl, a beautiful girl with golden hair, and they named her Jeannie. Meredith doted on her and made sure they treated her properly, with no baby-talk, so she wouldn't grow up into a "dumb blonde."

By the time Meredith ("Rodney! Can't you just call me Rodney?!") was eighteen, news of his beauty and brains had spread far and wide. Unfortunately, his gender did not, and so the single kings and princes and knights who showed up on their doorstep usually beat a hasty retreat. Some of them noticed wee Jeannie and asked about her but Meredith's glower generally put them off pretty much immediately. 

Then early one evening when Meredith was... oh, older, there was a heavy knock (three times, it's always three times, you know) on their front door. The father went to answer it, muttering something about it being late and not expecting anyone and it better not be any more damn princes or kings. He opened the door, stood there in shock for a moment, then slammed it, barred it, and ran for the back door, which he also barred.

"Who was it, dear?" the wife asked. She was teaching Jeannie how to embroider. 

"Bear!" the husband managed to get out. He was white as a sheet. "Talking bear! Big! Black! Bear!"

Meredith glared at his father. "What are you, an idiot? Oh, wait, never mind, I know the answer to that. One, bears don't talk. Two, bears don't knock on doors."

"This one did!" his father insisted, pulling the curtains closed.

"Oh, for the love of..." Meredith put his book down and stood, stalking to the front door.

"Don't open the door!" his father squeaked in a very undignified manner.

Meredith just rolled his eyes. He unbarred the door and opened it. Sure enough, there was a good-sized black bear sitting on the front doorstep. Meredith blinked. "Um. Good evening?"

"And to you," the bear replied. "I'm afraid I gave your... father? Quite a scare; I apologize."

"Yes, my father, the idiot. It being quite late, may I ask why you're calling?"

The bear cocked his head to one side. "You don't seem the least bit nervous or puzzled about talking to a bear. Can I ask why?"

Meredith rolled his eyes (he does that a lot) and snorted. "In the first place, you're obviously not a real bear, as real bears can't talk. Ergo, you're 'enchanted.' Given that I am the smartest person in quite possibly the world, I would expect you are calling in order to speak with me about said enchantment. Unfortunately, I will be unable to help you as I only deal with the physical world and not the magical one. I suggest you seek out a magician or wise woman or something. If that is all?"

The bear made a sound that was quite a bit like laughter. "Ah! I must be speaking with Meredith McKay, then!"

"I prefer Rodney," Meredith said through gritted teeth.

"Oh. Sorry. Rodney. I didn't know you were male, but hey, that's even cooler. You _are_ the person I'm looking for, actually. Would you like to come away with me and live in my castle? I promise you all the books you can read, any scientific apparatus you can dream up, and as a bonus, I'll take care of your family in the manner to which they'd like to become accustomed. Please?"

Meredith (" _Rodney!_ ") frowned at the bear. In his experience, an offer that sounded too good to be true usually was. "You want me to..."

"Yeah, I know it sounds too good to be true, but seriously, it's a legit offer. The terms are exactly as I've outlined and I guarantee no hinkiness. You and me, in my castle, invisible servants, great food, excellent entertainment, all the books and science you can ever want."

Mer-- Rodney stared at the bear for a moment. "I'm allergic to citrus," he finally said.

"Meredith!" his mother cried behind him. "You can't possibly be thinking about--"

"Duly noted," the bear replied. "Mrs. McKay, I swear to you, no harm will come to him. And I can provide for you, I'll see to it you never have to work again, get you a better house, or just have this one rebuilt, get anything you want. Honest."

The father, who had been listening from as far away from the front door as he could get (which wasn't very far, actually, it was a small house), finally spoke. "We would need this contract in writing," he said, prompting his wife to yell at him.

The bear nodded his shaggy head. "I can do that. First thing in the morning, I'll return with the contract. Give you all a chance to think about it. How's that sound?"

Rodney nodded. "After breakfast. I'm hypoglycemic and need my breakfast."

If bears could smile, that's what it would look like the bear was doing. "Done! See you in the morning." He nodded to everyone in the room and moved off the porch.

Rodney closed the door thoughtfully and set the lock. It was a damned attractive offer and he was already fairly sure he was going to take it. The fact that all they had for dinner was cabbage soup with beans and black bread merely firmed his decision.

* * *

The next morning, the black bear came knocking and Rodney was ready. He had a small trunk full of his favorite books and some writing material and a smaller pack full of clothing that wasn't in great shape. His little sister clung to him, crying, and he kissed her forehead tenderly. "Don't worry, everything will be fine," he told her. "Mom and Dad will take good care of you, and I'm sure I'll be allowed to visit every now and then." He glanced at the bear as he said the last words and the bear shrugged, as though to say probably.

Then Rodney gave his mother and father much more perfunctory goodbyes before hefting his trunk and his pack and looking at the bear. "Well?"

The bear laughed. "Up on my back, trunk and all. I promise you won't fall off."

"I should hope not," Rodney sniffed. "I have a bad back, you know."

"I'll add that to the list," the bear said dryly.

The bear was right, Rodney didn't fall off. He moved swiftly and very evenly through the forest, well past any villages or land Rodney had visited. In fact, Rodney thought... "Just how fast are you going?" 

"Slower than the speed of sound but faster than an African swallow," the bear replied, panting a little. "So sorry, hard to talk," he added, and Rodney subsided with a frown.

The day was wearing on past noon when the bear slowed, finally. Rodney looked around. "I don't see any palace," he said.

"We're only halfway there," the bear said. "I thought you could use the break, and I know I could. There's a stream over there, and several convenient trees. Excuse me." The bear lumbered off and Rodney turned towards a convenient tree; as soon as the bear mentioned it, he realized just how bad he had to pee.

His mother had packed him a lunch of bread, cheese and a couple of hard-boiled eggs, so after relieving himself, Rodney ate and drank from the stream, which was really cold and clear. The forest was dense and totally unfamiliar, he couldn't even see the sun though he could infer where it was from the shadows. 

When the bear finally returned, Rodney asked, "Just where are we, anyway?"

"A long ways from your home," the bear replied. "Let me get a drink and we'll keep going. We should make it to my home by nightfall if we're quick." 

Holy cow, Rodney thought. At the rate the bear traveled, they must be _miles_ away. He was still cogitating on this when the bear returned, his muzzle still damp, and urged him to re-mount.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of trees. The bear was practically flying through the woods, going so fast Rodney couldn't even make out individual trunks. It was hypnotizing; so much so that Rodney found himself nodding off before the end of it. When the bear finally slowed, Rodney sat up with a start, realizing the sun had just set and they were at a large clearing in the woods. 

"Home sweet home," the bear said. "Hop down and I'll get the door."

"What?" Rodney said, as he slid off the bear and put his things down. "This? Oh, you must be kidding me!"

"There's more here than meets the eye," the bear said, and Rodney could have sworn the thing was laughing at him. 

They walked halfway around the mound and a large wooden door appeared in the side of it, which the bear knocked upon (three times, again, it's always three times). The door opened and bright, golden light spilled out into the clearing, temporarily blinding Rodney. 

When he could see clearly again, he boggled. Inside the hill appeared to be a palace, a much larger space than the hill could shelter. There was a hall, and (as Rodney entered and looked around) it was topped by a domed ceiling from which candelabra hung, casting beautiful light everywhere. The floor was marble, dotted with rugs. Several doors opened to the right and left and straight ahead, a grand staircase led up to a second floor. 

"Holy cow," Rodney breathed, looking around.

"Surprised you, huh?" the bear said and this time there was no doubt it was laughing at him.

"Well, yeah," Rodney said, because, well, _yeah_. "How can it be so much bigger inside than out?"

"The dining room is this way," the bear said, ignoring his question. "And there's a powder room here so you can wash up. I'm guessing you're pretty hungry by now."

Rodney wanted to press his question but the growling in his stomach overruled him. He went as directed to the lavish 'powder room' ( _powder room_? More like a... a... well, something that Rodney didn't have a word for, since he was raised in a much smaller and less impressive house). He washed his hands and face quickly and used the toilet (so SO much more civilized than an outhouse or a tree!) and emerged into the dining room, where the bear was standing next to the ornate dining table. 

He really was a handsome bear, Rodney reflected as he sat at the table. His fur was soft and very sleek, except for the fur on his head, which stood up in crazy angles. His eyes were an odd color for a bear too, somewhere between green and brown.

"...ring the bell," the bear was saying when Rodney came back to himself. "Are you listening to me?" the bear asked, cocking his head to one side.

"Oh, sorry, no, what did you say?" Rodney picked up his snow-white napkin and laid it across his lap.

If bears could grin, the bear would be grinning. "I said, once you decide what you want to eat, all you have to do is pick up and ring the bell."

Rodney blinked. "Ring the bell." The bear nodded. "And then what?"

"Your food will appear," the bear said, in a 'duh' kind of voice.

"Oh, please. That's not... that violates..."

"You're not very familiar with magic, are you Rodney?" the bear asked.

Rodney shook his head. "Fine. So I decide what I want and ring the bell. So, what if I say I want... dragon steak with hot sauce?"

The bear snorted. "I'd say we've got copyright infringement and ask you to try again."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Okay, okay. Um... roast beef with mashed potatoes in gravy with asparagus in Hollandaise sauce."

The bear was just staring at him.

Rodney gave the bear Glare Number Two, hefted the bell and rang it. Before the clapper made it to the other side of the bell, he had a huge plate of roast beef, mashed potatoes smothered in gravy and asparagus, coated with what looked like the best Hollandaise sauce he'd ever smelled. "Oh my God," he breathed. The bell hit the table and the food hit his mouth and yes, it was just as good as it smelled.

"This is incredible," he said, around a mouthful of food so it came out more like "Thib ibn crbdble," but the bear didn't seem to have any problems translating. 

"Don't talk with your mouth full," the bear said, his voice dry. "Don't you want something to drink? Wine, perhaps?"

Rodney swallowed his mouthful of food and said, "Wine? Don't be ridiculous. Do you know how many brain cells alcohol kills? I'm a genius; I can't afford to lose any brain cells. Now, milk would be nice." 

"So ring for it."

It took Rodney a second to remember but then he hastily picked up the bell and rang it. Sure enough, a tall glass of ice cold milk appeared next to his plate. "How does that _work_?" he murmured, after taking a sip.

The bear shook his shaggy head and chuckled. "You really need to bone up on magical properties, I think."

Rodney went back to eating but his brain was ticking over as fast as his mouth was chewing. Three-quarters of the way through his dinner, he looked at the bear again. "Why aren't you eating?"

The bear just looked at him. "When you're done, I'll take you on a tour, the library, office and bedroom. You won't have to worry about clothing; you have an entire wardrobe full of clothing all in your size."

That didn't answer his question and Rodney frowned at his plate, remembering the other question the bear hadn't answered. "You know, I don't even know what to call you. Just 'bear'?" He wondered how -- or if -- the bear would respond.

"You can call me John," the bear replied promptly, forcing Rodney to revise his nascent theory. 

"Just 'John?' Not Prince John or Sir John?"

"Nope. Just John." 

"Hmm." Rodney continued to eat, his brain churning away. 

It didn't take him long to finish, and he drank the last of his milk with a happy sigh. "So, if I want a midnight snack, I have to come in here to get it?"

"Yep," John replied. "You can take it elsewhere if you want, but you need to return it here for clean up."

"Hmm. Okay. So, you promised me a tour."

"First, clean up your mess," John said. "Ring the bell again."

Rodney did, and the dirty dishes disappeared. "Wow. That's going to take some getting used to."

"Nah," said John. "You'll be used to it by tomorrow lunch. C'mon, I'll give you that tour."

The place wasn't as big as Rodney had initially thought. Across the entry from the dining room was the bedroom ('the' bedroom) with an enormous bed and a bathing room that was as big as the bedroom was. The tub could have seated ten comfortably, he was certain. There was a closet too, filled with clothing that John assured him would fit.

Rodney asked where John would sleep but John didn't answer. Again.

Back out into the foyer and up the stairs -- which, again, wasn't quite as grand or large as first impression made it -- took them into the library and into Rodney's fondest desire. The room was _enormous_ , cavernous, so big he couldn't even see the end of it. More books than he even knew _existed_ , racks upon racks of them, extending up into the ceiling and down into the basement. 

"Oh my God," he whispered, certain his eyes were goggling out of their sockets. 

"It's divided into sections, you'll figure it out soon enough." John waved his paw to the left. "Physical sciences over there, medical there, astrophysics, metaphysics, philosophy, magical, chemical, metallurgical, and so on. Pretty much anything you want, actually."

Rodney was basically frozen to the spot, his hands itching to pick up the books but not knowing where to begin. 

"There is one rule that you need to know, however," John said, rubbing one paw over his snout. 

Rodney blinked, finally free to move, and turned toward John. "A rule? What? I... I can't do...?"

"No, it's okay, it's just this. You have a curfew of eleven at night because you have to be in bed asleep before midnight every night. You can go outside if you want, and if you want to go home to visit, we can even figure something out. But you _must_ be in bed, asleep, well before midnight and you can't get up until six in the morning. That's it."

Frowning, Rodney stared at John who wouldn't look back at all. "You've been avoiding a lot of my questions, and there are others I want to ask that I bet you wouldn't answer either, like where are you going to sleep and what are you going to eat. And if I asked you why..."

John sighed and rubbed his face with one paw. "You really don't have any idea about the workings of magic, do you, McKay?"

It wasn't the first time John had asked that question. "No! I don't! I prefer to keep my feet grounded in the real world, thank you very much! And I don't understand why that should be an issue here!"

John just shook his shaggy head. "You've got four hours until curfew. I suggest you start over there," John pointed with his generous nose to a section to the right, "and start reading. Good night, Rodney."

With that, the big bear ambled back through the door of the library, leaving Rodney alone. When Rodney looked at the indicated section, he found it contained fairy tales. Grumbling, he took the first book off the shelf, sat in one of the very comfortable chairs and started reading.

Now, Rodney didn't much like fiction, he preferred scientific theory or mathematics or even connect-the-dots over sappy _children's books_. But he dutifully skimmed the fairy tales for content, frowning at the similarities he noted in the latest events of his life. Perhaps...

The deep tolling of a bell startled him so much he literally jumped in his chair. Looking around wildly as the bell continued to toll, he finally spotted the large clock standing in the shadows against the wall near the door to the library (something he hadn't seen when he entered and he hadn't noticed and no, he hadn't heard ANY other hours sounding so, no, there was no way it could have been noticed). The hands pointed to eleven and he blinked, it was that late?

The next thing he knew, he was in the bedroom, still holding his book, still sitting in the chair ( _how_ did that _happen_?). Okay, so the curfew was rock solid. With a put-upon sigh, Rodney rose and went into the bathroom to get ready for the evening. 

Within fifteen minutes, he was sinking into the sinfully soft bed, wearing pajamas made out of silk and feeling extremely spoiled. When he turned out the light, the room was almost pitch black, but that didn't matter, because he was asleep almost before his head hit the incredibly fluffy pillow.

* * *

It wasn't _completely_ completely dark -- the small clock on the bedside table had a tiny glow behind the face, telling him what time it was. Rodney sort of woke up when he felt the other side of the monstrous bed dip as someone else got under the covers, and he groggily noted the time -- midnight. He rolled over and muttered, "John?"

"Go back to sleep, Rodney," John murmured.

"Mmm," Rodney articulately replied. It wasn't until the next morning that he realized it couldn't have been John, because huge bed or not, it hadn't been a bear on the other side of the mattress.

* * *

Rodney woke up at daybreak, to his surprise, because there was _light_ coming into the bedroom through windows. How the hell could there be window underground? But windows there were, and there was muted sunlight coming through them. It was just past seven and the other side of the bed was rumpled and there was no black fur, so whatever had slept there (presumably John, because he had heard John's voice) certainly wasn't a bear. 

He cogitated on this while he got up, bathed (there was _hot running water_! He never wanted to leave!), and dressed for the day. The window didn't open but showed him a view overlooking a steep cliff, which led down to an ocean. Contemplating it gave him a headache, so he just went for breakfast.

Rodney didn't see John all day. He ate breakfast, lunch and dinner alone, read an astonishing number of books (several of which were the dratted fairy tales, but his interest had been piqued) and spent a couple of hours exploring the library. He found another room off of it which could only be called a laboratory, filled with marvelous things he found totally incomprehensible. It just reinforced his desire to never leave. 

Eleven o'clock found him in bed already, with a book of folk tales in hand. Magical interaction wasn't all that much fun, he'd decided. Wishes, when they came true, always seemed to have a sting attached (witness his own name, for God's sake), stepmothers always seemed to be evil, and people were always being turned into something terrible. That last gave him pause and he wondered about John, for clearly, John wasn't your average bear (even if that skirted copyright infringement right there).

He must have fallen asleep thinking about it. In the morning, he had a groggy recollection of someone taking the book away, turning off the lamp and actually tucking him in to the bed. He was certain he hallucinated the kiss on the forehead, however.

And of course, by dawn, all he saw was rumpled bedclothes on the other side of the bed.

* * *

Things went on like that for the next week. He rose, ate, studied and grew progressively smarter each day. Sometimes John would be there (as a bear) and sometimes he wouldn't. He was always there (as something else) at night, though, but Rodney was always asleep (or mostly asleep) when John (as something else) got into bed with him. He was dying of curiosity but managed to keep it banked until he learned more about the situation through the rotten fairy tales/magic rules.

John taught him how to play chess after his first week and regularly trounced him, though Rodney was getting much better (hello, genius, it wouldn't take him long because John was a _bear_ , and even if he was a human changed into a bear, he couldn't be as smart as Rodney). Rodney kept trying to trick John into answering questions about his past or his circumstances, and John kept evading them.

So a lot of things happened that were really not that important, most of them concerning Rodney's ego and his ever-expanding brain power. By the time six months had passed, he and John knew each other about as well as any two people could, considering one of them wouldn't say a word about his background or upbringing. They'd had long, rambling philosophical discussions on the merits of football (soccer) over hockey and the relative airspeed of a laden European swallow. Rodney had told John some of his deepest, darkest secrets, including the one about how seeing Rolf Knalkersonne naked got him as hard as seeing Rolf's sister's breasts did. The fact that John found this interesting he kept to himself. 

At seven months, they had a screaming argument (okay, Rodney screamed, John bellowed) over John's lack of communication on what the fuck was going on and why John was a bear and why Rodney was even in John's whatever-it-was. They didn't speak to each other for two days. Then they grudgingly apologized by not apologizing and things returned to normal and Rodney realized that John had somehow become his best friend... okay, his _only_ friend. Rodney knew he was abrasive, knew he could be a little overbearing at times, but intelligence and beauty were their own rewards and who needed friends? If John were actually a human, Rodney would really be his best friend.

Then Rodney discovered coffee.

It was purely by chance. He was eating breakfast one morning and feeling very sluggish for some reason. His usual tea wasn't really doing anything to wake him up and he picked up the bell, vaguely thinking about something stronger than tea, something that was hot, rich and a real pick-me-up. What appeared at his clang was a mug of dark brew that smelled delicious and tasted... well, it was an acquired taste, he decided after the first sip, but it wasn't that bad. And once the rush hit, well, that was the best _ever_.

He had five cups of coffee that day, and that night, he had trouble falling asleep. So much trouble, in fact, that when John came to bed at midnight, Rodney was mostly still awake for the first time since arriving at John's house. He could hide that fact, and did, but while pretending to be asleep, he listened. John pulled down the covers, whispered "Goodnight, Rodney," and settled into the bed. Clearly, again, not a bear. Rodney almost fell asleep waiting for John to fall asleep, but John rolling over with a soft snort roused him again.

So. He was in bed, awake, with John, who was asleep. And it was pitch black in the room, aside from the tiny light of the clock on the bedside table. Rodney mentally rolled his eyes. What good was it for him to stay awake, anyway?

Then he had an idea: he shifted on the bed, trying to make it casual, like he was rooting in his sleep, and ended up closer to the middle of the bed. John didn't move and his breathing didn't change. Carefully, Rodney inched closer, until he was almost close enough to touch John. It had happened before, the bed was huge but as Rodney had gotten used to it, he found himself sliding around in it. He wasn't exactly a stationary sleeper. 

In order to prove it to himself, he reached out and touched John, as lightly as he could. As he had expected, he felt clothing and skin, not fur. Yup, human. Satisfied for the moment, Rodney rolled back over and began to plot his way into sleep.

* * *

Over the next couple of days, he tried to figure out a way to see John. He rejected a candle right off, because he'd read enough of the folk tales to know that too many bad things happened by candlelight, same with burning oil -- tallow and oil always seemed to spill at the wrong time in the wrong place, so, no. He spent a few fruitless hours looking for something he could use as a lantern, but came up empty. He even took apart the clock looking for the light source, but that didn't work either.

This clearly called for the bigger guns.

He researched 'light' in the library. There was sunlight, of course, but that was out, even if the window opened on something that was patently impossible. There was fire, but he'd already disqualified that. That left gaslight, which would be perfect if he had access to gas and something to burn it in, phosphorescence, or bioluminescence. He was unable to find anything that gave off its own light and while he did give brief thought of capturing several million fireflies, he finally gave it up as being impracticable. 

Rodney wasn't a genius for nothing, however, and eventually he took a piece of equipment apart and discovered a light emitting diode, and figured out how the light was generated. By the end of a week, he'd managed to make himself a small, dim, LED flashlight, one that didn't have a long range but that would serve the purpose -- which was finding out exactly what John looked like under all that bear hair.

It was a tricky process, building the flashlight and keeping it away from John, but he managed it. He secreted it under his pillow, and one day, when John hadn't been in evidence, Rodney drank six cups of coffee, most of it in the late afternoon. By midnight, he was wired and had trouble staying still, much less pretending to sleep.

John didn't seem to share his antsiness; he appeared precisely at midnight, climbed into bed with his customary "Goodnight, Rodney" and seemed to fall right asleep. Rodney waited more than half an hour before he started creeping over to the other side of the bed, trying to make the movements seem natural. 

Finally, he was close enough, and John seemed deeply asleep (and snoring lightly). Rodney leaned up carefully and turned on his light. "Oh my God," was his first thought, "he's hot!" Because he was, smoking hot that is, with messy, black hair and an angular face and the fact that his face was asymmetrical (one eye was a good eighth-of-an-inch higher than the other) just served to make his face more attractive. Which was _ridiculous_ but true nonetheless.

And he had stubble. Dark stubble and all it did was to make John more insanely gorgeous.

Rodney could have stared at John for most of the night except his arm, which was propping him up, started to cramp and he had to lie back down. He clicked off his light and studied the darkness above him, trying to think. By day, John was a big, black bear. At midnight, he turned into an extremely attractive human male who slept with Rodney. By day, he wouldn't discuss his situation at all. By night, they were asleep, so he... wouldn't discuss his situation. And he clearly didn't want Rodney to know he was a human at night, given the injunction that Rodney be in bed, asleep, before midnight.

But _why_? Why should John care if Rodney knew he was secretly a human? What the hell difference did it make? It wasn't as if it was a big, whopping secret that John was under a fucking spell, now, was it? Bears didn't, as a rule, _talk_!

It really was beginning to piss Rodney off.

So, maybe there was something he was missing. He went back through everything he'd learned about folk tales and fairy stories, everything that talked about spells that transfigured someone and what caused it, how the spell was broken and why.... There it was. 

A kiss! Almost always, spells were broken by a kiss, true love's kiss, first kiss, whatever: the frog was changed into a prince, the princess was awakened, the whatever was whatevered. Rodney propped his head up on his hand and once again considered the dark lump that was John. So, if he kissed John, maybe the spell would be broken and John would turn into a man full time? That could be why John was pushing him towards the fairy tales so much, and could be why he was searching for Rodney in the beginning -- the smartest man in the world would be the one to break the curse! 

It all made sense -- at least to Rodney. He also had the feeling if he waited until the morning to ask John about it, John wouldn't answer anyway and that might be the wrong thing to do besides. No, it was best done now, just in case.

Rodney turned his light back on and looked down. John was wearing a white silk shirt -- much like Rodney's pajamas -- mostly unbuttoned, and white silk boxers and he really was gorgeous. It wouldn't be a hardship to kiss him. Not at all. Putting his light on the pillow, out of the way, Rodney leaned carefully down and let his lips brush John's, carefully, gently, just a whisper of a touch. 

Nothing happened.

Well, okay, maybe it needed a real kiss, then. Something that mattered. Rodney took a deep breath and tried again, hoping the fact that he'd never kissed _anyone_ (outside his mother and father) didn't make a difference. 

His first thought was John's lips were soft. His second was he could get used to this. His third came hard on the heels of John's barely-there moan and was equally mixed with panic -- was John waking up? Did he do something wrong? But as he began to pull away, John, who seemed to be still mostly asleep, murmured "Rodney..." and Rodney's breath clotted in his throat. Wow. 

"John?" Rodney whispered, his mouth just centimeters from John's. 

"Mmmm..." John really didn't seem to be awake, but if he was asleep, then he was definitely not unhappy about kissing Rodney. It was such a rush to think that John was possibly _dreaming_ about kissing -- and maybe more! -- Rodney! Well, of course he was. Rodney was as smart as he was beautiful, and...

"Rodney," John breathed again, rolling slightly towards Rodney's warmth. 

Taking advantage of it, Rodney inched closer and dove down for another kiss. John moved closer, then Rodney moved closer, then Rodney realized he was... oh, my.

Okay, so this is supposed to be a _fairy tale_ , and as such, there isn't supposed to be... well, you know, _explicit sex_ and stuff. So you're not supposed to read about how John was only half-awake, not even enough to register Rodney was physically there (as opposed to dreaming), and Rodney got harder faster than he had since he was a teenager, and you're not supposed to know whose tongue got stuck in whose mouth first or which leg got put between and who rubbed off and who... Well, none of that.

But John did actually wake up just before he came, realizing that the armful of hot, horny Rodney he had was real and not a dream; he woke up in time to yelp "Rodney!" just before coming in his pants and just before Rodney came all over him (somehow, Rodney had managed to ditch his own boxers). 

Then there was a lot of heavy breathing on both parts, and John put his hands over his face and moaned, "Oh shit, oh fuck, oh shit, oh fuck..." and Rodney was shaking like a leaf and ready to do it all over again _right now_.

"Wow," Rodney said in a breathy voice. "That was..."

"An unmitigated disaster," John said in a harsh voice that was also kinda despairing. He reached over and turned on the light on his side of the bed. He was a wreck, but a really hot, sexy wreck, with semen all over his shirt and boxers and skin and his hair wild. "You couldn't have waited?"

"Huh?" So sex made Rodney stupid, who knew?

John scrubbed his face with his hands and left them there as he plopped back on the bed. "Shit. Goddamn it Rodney, we only had a couple of months left! Now I've... Christ." 

He sounded like he was going to cry and Rodney reached out, touched his hands. "John? I--I did...?"

"If you could have just waited until a year was up, we would have been fine," John mumbled from behind his hands. "The spell would have broken and I would have turned back into me and we could have... well, it would have gone back to normal and maybe we... But now..." John lowered his hands and glared at Rodney. "Now, I'm going to have to go back to the damned castle and marry one of those bitches! Goddamn it, Rodney!"

"What? Wait a minute, what?" Rodney sat up and glared right back. "You do _not_ get to blame me for this. Explain yourself."

John sighed the sigh of the long-suffering. "I was under a spell."

Rodney just looked at him.

"Right. A spell that changed me into a bear during the day and a man at night."

Rodney just looked at him.

John rolled his eyes. "But now that you've..." he waved his hand between them, "I'm going to have to go back, to the Evil Witch who Ensorcelled Me and I have to marry Her or One of Her Two Daughters."

Rodney frowned. "Why?"

John looked confused and stupid. "What do you mean why? How do I know? I just do! It's part of the spell! I'm not the one casting the spells here!"

"Well, why didn't you tell me? And for that matter, why did you come and get me in the first place?"

"Look, McKay, I don't make the rules here! All I know is that when the sun comes up, I'm going to be back in that damn castle and I'll have to choose which of those three twats I have to marry and in case you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly turned on by women!"

"Well turn them all down!" Rodney yelled, waving his hands around.

"I can't do that!" John bellowed, sitting up so he could wave his own hands around.

"Why?!"

"Because!"

"Oh, for-- Is there a _PRAGMATIST_ in the house?!"

" _SHUT UP!_ "

"All right, fine! Let me come with you and I'll figure out--"

"You can't. The spell won't take you." John said, flumping back to the bed.

Keeping his anger in check -- but only barely -- Rodney ground out, "Then tell me where it is and I'll come find you."

John took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I don't know where it is. All I do know is that it's east o'the sun and west o'the moon."

Rodney let that sink in a moment before shaking his head. "You do know that's impossible, right? I mean, you can't go east of the sun, that's a physical impossibility."

"Yes, Rodney," John all but snarled. "I assure you, I've tried to cover all the bases. Do you think I _want_ to go?"

Abruptly, all Rodney's anger left him. "No, I know you don't." Rodney stretched out next to John and took his hand. "I'm sorry. I thought... I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought maybe a kiss would break the spell, not make it worse."

John snorted out a smile. "Well, it was a good thought."

They lay like that in the small pool of light for a little while before Rodney said, "I'll figure something out. I promise. I'm sure there's a way to get there. Try to stall for time."

John sighed. "I'll do what I can. Believe me, I really don't want to be married to any of them."

After another long moment, Rodney turned and looked at the clock. "Hey, there are still several hours until dawn. Do you think we..."

John chuckled softly and a little sadly. "Yeah. I'd like to have a good memory, just in case."

Rodney's heart clenched. "Me too." 

It turned out there was lube in the drawer of the bedside table.

* * *

In the morning, Rodney woke to find himself outside, on the soft grass of the mound, a backpack of clothing and food near his feet and his trunk of books nearby. The sun was up and there was a horse, saddled and ready, waiting for him.

"Well, fuck," he said, and sighed.

* * *

It was nice of John (or whoever, but it was probably John) to leave Rodney the horse, except that Rodney had never ridden a horse in his life. He approached it diffidently, wracking his brains for instructions on how to approach a horse. It was a very handsome, very large, gleaming black horse and its mane and tail were all twisted, kind of like dreadlocks. They were supposed to be pretty intelligent animals and liked it when people talked to them, so...

"Um, hi, horse. My name's Rodney, and I guess John--"

"Yeah, yeah, John asked me to help. The name's Ronon. Just get on."

Rodney jumped a little then sighed and rolled his eyes. "Oh, Christ. You're under a spell too?"

The horse tossed his head and made a sound that almost sounded like a laugh. "Nah, I'm really a horse, just one who talks. Use the stump over there to get on my back. From my left. And leave the trunk, I'm not carrying it."

It took some work, but finally Rodney was on the horse's back, sitting pretty uncomfortably. He just knew he was going to have blisters on his butt before the end of the day. "Okay," Ronon said, "where to?"

"What, you don't know?"

Ronon the horse turned his head and eyeballed Rodney. "Duh? You're the boss."

"Like I know," Rodney grumbled. "I don't suppose you know how to get east of the sun and west of the moon?" 

Ronon laughed again. "No, but I know where some wise women live. They might know."

Rodney gathered up the reins -- at least, that's what he thought they were. "Any port in a storm and it beats walking. Let's go."

"Hold on with your knees and don't pull the reins," Ronon said, and they were off.

* * *

It was a long ride -- almost a day and a half, in fact -- to where the 'wise women' lived, and Rodney was extremely sore by the time they got there. He made sure to let Ronon know about that, as well, but Ronon just snorted and asked him if he'd rather walk. 

'There' proved to be a half-destroyed, ramshackle, spooky-looking hut in deep woods. "What? Here?" Rodney said, looking around wildly. "You must be kidding me!"

"Nope." Ronon stepped up to a convenient stump. "Off."

With an enormous put-upon sigh, Rodney gingerly and gracelessly dismounted, rubbing his buttocks gently. 

Ronon reared up and struck a hollow log nearby with his hooves, making a booming sound; he did it three times. "Yell 'hello the house,'" he said to Rodney.

With a sour glare to Ronon, Rodney bellowed, "Hello the shack!"

Ronon shook all over in horse laughter.

After a moment, an elderly woman's voice came back. "Who is it trespasses on our lot? Is he for stewing in our pot?"

Rodney's eyes grew big and he gave Ronon a panicked look. Ronon laughed again. "It's Ronon, Teyla! I've brought somebody who needs to see you!"

"Ronon?" 

Instantly the scene began to melt away. The dark and dank forest opened up to a sunlit glade, dotted with grass and wildflowers; the house transformed into a charming Cape Cod with geraniums in window boxes and a large front door, painted green. Around the left side of the house there was a well-tended vegetable garden and on the right, a small shed and horse paddock. Rodney gaped.

The green door opened and two people emerged, one a small, shapely woman with strawberry blonde hair, dressed in white and gold, and the other a tall, statuesque woman with brunette hair, dressed in black. They were both gorgeous, Rodney noticed in passing. Okay, he noticed by ogling.

"Ronon!" Both women converged on the horse and hugged him. The blonde one said, "You stink! How long have you been moving without a proper curry?"

"Two days." Ronon tossed his head in Rodney's direction. "Tried to tell him how, but he's not that smart."

"Hey!" Rodney spluttered, affronted. "I've never been around horses before!"

Both women turned to look at him. "Hmmm," the brunette said. "You must be Meredith McKay. I warned John about you."

"Hey!" Rodney repeated, even more affronted. 

"Now, Larrin," the blonde said. "What is done is done. John needs our help now. We should focus."

The brunette, who was obviously named Larrin, which meant the blonde was named Teyla, rolled her eyes. "Whatever. C'mon, Ronon, I'll give you a brush down and we've got some fresh oat cakes." She led Ronon to the stables while Teyla turned to look at Rodney.

"You might as well come in, then. I will give you soup. Lucky for you Larrin has been the one to cook today."

It was a confused Rodney who followed -- and ogled, even more -- Teyla's extremely shapely behind into the house. "None of that or I will think you are not in love with John," she said, not turning around.

"What?" he asked, cringing back.

"You know of what I speak," she said reprovingly. "Sit here and I will give you soup." 

It was good soup and Rodney tried to concentrate on that rather than on thoughts which may or may not be picked up on to his detriment. He was just finishing when Larrin came back in. 

"There. That's done. Now to other chores." She and Teyla sat down across the table from him. "You're looking for John since you had the terrible timing to ruin the spell."

Feeling the need to defend himself, Rodney said, "I didn't know! I thought maybe a kiss would break it!"

The women looked at each other then at him. "I was a nice thought," Teyla said.

Larrin snorted. "It was idiotic. You didn't know what you were doing."

"Still," Teyla said, putting her hand on Larrin's arm. "He loves John." She turned and pinned Rodney to his chair with her gaze. "You do, do you not?"

Rodney blinked. Did he love John? He thought, long and hard, for a good thirty seconds. John was a good buddy, he was gorgeous (as a man, though he wasn't bad as a bear, either) and even though he preferred soccer (football) over hockey, he was still pretty intelligent (not as smart as Rodney, but who was?). And he was a wizard at blowjobs. What hurt the most, though, was how much Rodney was missing John. So, apparently... 

"Yeah," Rodney said softly, looking up and across the table. "I guess I do." 

Teyla beamed at him; Larrin looked a little skeptical but seemed willing to be persuaded. Rodney just swallowed, resigned to his fate. All he really wanted was that library and John, was that so much to ask for?

Well, that, and Nobel Prize. Once they were created anyway.

"Ronon said you were wise women," Rodney said. "Can you help me get John back? Do you know where he is and how to get there?"

"Well," Larrin said, looking at Teyla. "We know where he is."

"However," Teyla said, looking at Larrin. "How to get there..."

"He said it was some ridiculous place, like east of the sun." Rodney made a rude noise. "That's impossible, you know."

The two women looked at each other for a long moment, then Teyla said, "You don't know much about magic, do you, Meredith?"

"I prefer Rodney," Rodney gritted out. "And no. If you could just tell me how to get there..."

"I'm afraid we cannot do that," Teyla said and Rodney had to take a deep breath, hold it and count backwards in Swahili. It was difficult, since he didn't know how to speak in Swahili. "But we know of someone who can."

"Your parents know about him too, since he was the one who gave them the means to have you." Larrin raised her eyebrow as she stared at him.

"What, the fairy?" Rodney said, trying to remember what his parents had said about how he was conceived. "My parents aren't exactly..."

"A few tacos shy of a combination plate, yeah, we know," Larrin said. "And no, we don't mean the fairy. We mean the person who gave them the means to _get_ the fairy."

Confused, Rodney said, "But I thought that was some old granny."

The look that went between Teyla and Larrin was amused, this time. "Not quite," Teyla said. "Tonight, you may stay here, in our guest room. But tomorrow, you must be off to him, for it is a long journey to his cave and you do not have much time if you are to reach John before the wedding."

"Oh, great," Rodney muttered. "More butt-blisters."

* * *

Rodney was immensely glad to leave in the morning, not the least of which was because the house had thin walls and he could hear everything that went on in the bedroom next to his (he had no idea women could actually _do_ that to each other!). The next morning, Teyla fed him breakfast (no citrus), and Larrin gave him an exhaustive tutorial on how to take care of a horse, much to Ronon's relief. Then they packed him some fresh food and clean clothing, told Ronon where to go and saw him off.

Aside from frequent admonitions to stop pulling on the reins and to quit making so many toilet stops, Ronon wasn't much of a conversationalist. Rodney discovered that time spent on a horse's back could actually seem longer than it actually was; as he fell into a daze of discomfort and extreme boredom, he began working out equations in his head dealing with time dilation vis-à-vis horseback riding and distance. 

He had almost worked out how to actually decrease one's age by going backwards on a horse when Ronon announced, "Hey. We're here."

Rodney shook himself out of his trance then looked around, shivering. 'Here' turned out to be a cold, rocky area in front of a cave mouth in the side of a big mountain. There was a cold wind blowing and the area looked nothing at all like how his parents described the 'old granny's' cave. "Are you sure..." he began, but Ronon interrupted him.

"Yeah, I know, Larrin said it's a different entrance." Ronon pulled up to a rock. "Get off. Seriously, it's okay. This guy has got a bunch of entrances, according to her. You go in first, there's no way in   
_hell_ I'm going in blind or with a rider."

With a huge, put-upon sigh, Rodney dismounted, rubbing his ass. Even his blisters had blisters. "Fine. Larrin had better be right." Ronon snorted and pushed Rodney ahead with his nose, nearly knocking him off his feet. "Hey!"

"It's cold and I'm sweaty. Get in there already."

"I'm going, I'm going!" Rodney groused, walking into the cave, Ronon right behind him. 

He stopped just inside the entrance to let himself get used to the dark and discovered it wasn't very dark at all. There were lights, of similar type to the ones in John's house lining the walls of the cave, which, upon closer inspection, didn't seem very much like cave walls at all. Ronon's hooves didn't sound like they were hitting rock, either, it was more like... carpet? 

"What the hell?" Rodney muttered, looking around. "This place is strange."

"I smell water," Ronon said. "And there's more light ahead."

"Well, that's where we're going." Rodney took a deep breath and swallowed hard before squaring his shoulders and marching on. "Might as well get it over with."

So there was a bunch of weird and weirder stuff that happened but nothing like having a talking horse (or a talking, enchanted bear, for that matter) show up on your doorstep. Eventually, they ended up talking to a guy with wild, brown hair, who wore glasses and spoke with a Czech accent. He was pissed because Ronon accidentally ripped his favorite pillow and his TiVo was broken -- he'd missed his favorite soap opera.

"I don't know how my parents thought you were some granny," Rodney said.

"Your parents are not very..."

"Yes, yes, I know, elevator doesn't reach the top floor, I know. What did you say your name was again?"

"You may call me Radek," the man said, peering at Rodney through his glasses. "So, you are the product of the advice I gave them. I warned them to be specific."

Rodney sighed. "Be that as it may, I am here now and I need your help. I understand you know how to reach John, and I need to get to him and rescue him from having to get married, or something like that." Rodney rolled his eyes. "And it's already been over a week. So. Can you get me there?"

Radek blinked at him. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh for _God's sake_!" Rodney yelled, throwing his hands in the air. "I come all this way, risk life, limb and the skin of my _ass_ and you _don't know what I'm talking about_?!"

Ronon nudged Rodney, nearly knocking him to the floor. "He's in the place that's called east o'the sun, west o'the moon," he told Radek.

Radek looked up at the big horse and his eyes grew wider. "Ah! You should have said so in the first place! I can't help if you're not specific, now, can I? It's what I told your parents in the first place, and look where it got them!" 

Rodney looked around for a spare piece of wall so he could bash his head on it. Finding none, he settled for pounding his head with his fists. "Those directions... the location... impossible..."

"Of course it is." Radek had walked into another room but his voice floated out to Rodney quite well. "It is euphemism. You have heard of Clarke's Law? Oh, wait, no, he hasn't been born yet. Ah! Here it is." Radek returned bearing a small, rolled up piece of paper or parchment, which he put on the desk in front of Rodney and unrolled. On it were eight strange symbols like nothing Rodney had ever seen before. "Here is the address!" Radek proclaimed as if it was the answer to life, the universe and everything.

Rodney looked at the mess on the desk and shook his head. "The address to _what_?"

"This is the place you seek. I will give you a map..." He looked at Rodney then at Ronon. "Well, perhaps I will just tell Ronon where to go. You must find the gate of stars, enter this address, then it will take you to the place you seek." He frowned at Rodney. "Why are going there, again?"

There was a over-stuffed chair nearby, Rodney collapsed on it. "More travel, more blisters. Great."

"Yeah, well, you're a shitty rider too, McKay," Ronon said.

Giving Ronon a baleful glare, Rodney turned to Radek. "I have to _rescue_ my lover, John," he said, cocking his fingers into air quotes as he spoke. "He was under a spell, and I made it worse. Now he has to marry one of three women or witches or something like that, and I have to get there before he has to make the choice and save him from that horrible fate." When Radek just blinked in confusion, Rodney added, "He's not exactly interested in women."

"Ah." Radek still looked a little confused but seemed willing to let it pass. "You could always send them my way. I haven't seen a single, heterosexual woman in more years than I'd like to admit." He sighed and Rodney joined him.

"Okay, fine, where is this gate thingy?" Rodney said after a couple of moments.

* * *

Rodney and Ronon stayed the night with Radek, and Rodney took a bath to soothe his blisters. The next morning, they set out with instructions on where to go and more provisions provided by Radek. It was another long, cold trek to the so-called gate of stars, which sat in lonely splendor on the top of an ugly hill in the middle of a peat bog. 

Just as Radek had said, there was a device on which to enter the 'address' that was on the scroll. Rodney awkwardly dismounted and approached the device, frowning at it as if it were going to attack him. He unrolled the scroll and compared it to the lettering on the 'gate' as well as the device and saw where they matched.

"I think you have to push them in order," Ronon said, looming over his shoulder.

"Thank you, Mr. Ed, I'm well aware of that," Rodney snapped. "Might as well get it over with."

Ronon snorted out something that sounded like, "For fuck's sake, I'm not a palomino, I'm a black Andalusian." Rodney ignored him in favor of concentrating on the matter at hand.

The whole thing with the ka-whoosh of the 'gate activating and the stuff that looked like water (but almost certainly wasn't) was quite astonishing and extremely impressive, not that Rodney wanted to admit it. It was almost frightening to contemplate walking through it, but again, Rodney wasn't about to admit that or even pretend he wasn't going to. 

He marched up to the 'gate, took a deep breath and girded his loins. Then he looked over his shoulder at Ronon. "You coming?"

Ronon looked a little askance at the whole thing and tossed his head. "Well... John's a good friend."

Rodney put his hands on his hips. "Are you _coming_?"

Snorting again, Ronon shook himself and stomped one hoof on a rock. "Okay, okay. Fine." He walked up to the 'gate and walked through with Rodney.

They emerged (after a _very_ interesting ride) into a completely different place. There was an expanse of ocean before them, bashing up against the rocky promontory upon which they stood. Rodney frowned as he looked around, then Ronon nudged him.

"McKay, turn around!" Ronon yelled over the sound of the surf.

Well, that was different, Rodney thought. In the other direction there were tall spires of blue, white and gold beauty. Directly in front of them, a good distance from where they stood, there was a large door set between panels of gold stained glass. 

"Wow." Ronon sounded about as awed as Rodney felt.

"Yes, yes, let's get going and away from all this salt water before I catch my death." Rodney set off across the rocky landscape to the door, trying hard to conceal his nervousness. He really had no idea what he was doing. John had told him next to nothing about what was to happen to him, only that there was an Evil Witch and Two Daughters. In caps, no less. So who the hell knew what was going to happen. In one of the fairy tale books he'd read, there was a troll with a nose three ells long and Rodney didn't even know how long an ell was.

The door was big but it opened easily and there was no one guarding it. Both he and Ronon walked right in and looked around. Rodney wasn't terribly surprised to discover it looked substantially like where he had lived with John, only on a much larger scale -- lots of stained glass windows, a real second floor (and, given the towers, probably several more floors), complete with balconies, and light sources which were far more mysterious and interesting. 

He and Ronon gawked for a while, standing in the huge foyer and looking at all the prettiness and the blue, white and gold draperies everywhere. "Impressive," Ronon finally said.

"I guess," Rodney replied, trying desperately to maintain the facade of being disinterested. "Hello! Anybody home?"

Ronon startled at Rodney's voice "You sure that's a good idea?" he asked.

"What else was I--"

"McKay?" 

Rodney twisted around and he almost jumped for joy -- John was running down one of the many staircases. "John!" They crashed into each other and held on for dear life.

"Jesus, what took you so long?!" John demanded in between frantic kisses.

"You didn't exactly leave directions!" Rodney retorted when he had breath to.

"Yeah, but you cut it really close to the wire, here!" They finally broke apart when Ronon bumped into them, nearly knocking them to the floor.

"What the hell -- oh! Ronon! Hey, buddy! Thanks for taking care of Rodney, man, I really appreciate it." 

"Yeah, well, you owe me, John," Ronon replied. "This guy's been no picnic."

"Hey!" Rodney protested.

John just laughed as he stroked Ronon's neck and mane. "You need a curry, don't you. There are some stables out--"

He was interrupted by a loud, female voice. "What the hell is going on down here?" Rodney looked up as a very attractive -- _older_ \-- woman with dark hair descended the staircase. "John? What is this animal doing here? And who is this... this _man_?"

"Nice to meet you, too," Ronon said in an annoyed voice, stamping one hoof.

The woman's eyes grew wide as Ronon spoke, and she gave him a wide berth as she approached John. "Animals should not be allowed here. Even... talking ones." She took John's arm in a way that looked far too proprietary for Rodney's taste. 

John sighed. "These are my friends, Elizabeth. This is Rodney McKay and Ronon. Rodney, Ronon, meet Elizabeth Weir."

"That's not a proper introduction, John," Elizabeth said, not offering her hand or anything else, as her gaze and attention mostly stayed on John. "I'm the head of Atlantis and your fiancée, don't forget."

"No, you're not!" said another female voice, from somewhere. Rodney spun around, trying to place it, but John just dropped his chin to his chest. "We were here first, and John hasn't chosen yet!"

"You're not even _corporeal_ Teer!" Elizabeth snapped. "I don't think--"

"I can be, if I choose to be! And once John chooses me, I will be!" said yet another female voice. Finally, two shimmering presences appeared at the foot of the stairs, behind John and Elizabeth, across from Ronon and Rodney. They coalesced into two very pretty women, if you were into the winsome type, which Rodney wasn't.

"Shut up, Chaya, he'll be choosing me, and that's all there is to it," Elizabeth said with a haughty toss of her head.

"Actually..." John began, wincing as Elizabeth dug her claws into his arm.

"I find that hard to believe," Rodney said at some volume. Suddenly the room was silent and everyone turned to him. "That he's going to choose any of you, I mean," he continued.

Elizabeth plastered a plastic smile across her face and said, "He has to choose one of us, else there will be dire consequences which are no business of yours." She turned to John and continued, in a stage whisper, "John, darling, I don't recall giving you permission to invite anyone here..."

"John doesn't _need_ your permission to invite anyone," one of the half-transparent winsome-twins said. "You don't own Atlantis; you're a newcomer."

"Yes, we all know you're the _eldest,_ Chaya," the other twin said in a snide voice.

"Or any of you, for that matter," Rodney continued. "He's really just not that into you."

"I think you should leave," Elizabeth said with a hint of marshmallow-covered menace.

"No!" John yelped. 

"No?" Elizabeth said, and the menace was much less marshmallow covered.

"Look, if I'm to be married, then... then... I should be allowed to have friends here. Right?" as John spoke, he looked at Rodney with a pleading expression. 

Rodney just looked at him, trying to convey _you must be joking_ in one look. Why he just couldn't come out and say it... "I think what John's trying to say is--"

"I suppose, for the ceremony..." Elizabeth said over him, frowning thunderously.

" _I_ would let you have anyone you wanted," one of the Bobsey Twins said. They appeared to be pretty nice looking women, and Rodney wanted to claw all four of their wispy eyeballs out.

"But this is moot," Elizabeth said over them. "You have to decide, John." She pointed over Rodney's head at something behind him. "You're running out of time."

Rodney turned and gaped. Through the huge stained glass window he saw two tiny moons converging on each other and on the setting sun. "Okay, that's... actually cool," he muttered. 

"Once the sun sets..." Elizabeth said ominously.

John sighed. "Yeah, yeah, I know." He gave Rodney another look that meant absolutely nothing. "Very well, then, I..." He bit his lip and Rodney swore he could see steam coming out of John's ears. "Right, then. If I have to get married, I will, but I'll only marry whoever can clean my best silk shirt." 

Everyone in the room paused and blinked. "What?" Elizabeth said.

Ronon had sidled over to Rodney's side. "What the hell's he playing at?" Ronon asked softly.

"Haven't the vaguest," Rodney replied, completely stumped. 

John actually looked calmer, more in control, like he'd figured something out. "It's a challenge, Elizabeth. Perfectly clear and allowed. My best silk shirt is stained, and I'll only marry the one who can clean it, make it white again. But I promise, I will marry that person."

Elizabeth looked angry enough to spit nails and the wispy kids didn't look very happy either. "Fine," Elizabeth spat. "Get the shirt and I will clean it."

John took off like a sprinter, racing up the stairs three at a time. That left Rodney alone with Cruella DiVille and the Wonder Twins, who were looking more substantial by the moment -- though that might have been because they were drifting closer.

"You are a very beautiful horse," one of them said to Ronon, who arched his neck and preened at the compliment.

"If you're so taken with it, why don't you take it outside to the stables, Chaya, dear," Elizabeth said coldly.

"Don't be absurd, Elizabeth," the other one -- Teer? -- said. "For your information, I've taken the form of a horse before. And he's a guest. You're never going to understand how things are here, are you?" There was a definite note of condescension in her voice and Elizabeth bristled.

"An uninvited guest! What if it defecates? I'm certainly not going to clean it up! As for you being a horse, well, I can certainly see _that_."

"Excuse me?" Ronon said, lowering his head in a threatening manner.

Rodney shook his head and wished for a stiff drink. He had no idea what was going on but a part of him wished John had never shown up in the first place.

Luckily, they were saved by John, the bizarre idiot, bouncing down the stairs, a white shirt fluttering behind him. "Here it is! This is my favorite shirt, and it has stains on it. I'll marry whoever can clean it."

Elizabeth snatched the shirt from John and inspected it. Rodney blinked then suddenly remembered where he'd seen the shirt -- it was what John had been wearing the last time they'd been together. Which meant the stains on it were...

"What is that smell?" Elizabeth said, wrinkling her nose. Rodney winced.

"Uh, well, that's not important," John said quickly. "Can you clean it?"

"Of course I can," Elizabeth snapped. "I'll just toss it in the washing machine--"

Chaya and Teer came closer to look at the shirt. "Don't be ridiculous!" Teer said. "We have much better methods. I'll put it in the sonic--"

"That won't work," Chaya interrupted. "It'll have to go through the steam cleaner first--"

"I'm telling you," Elizabeth said, wadding the shirt up to keep them from looking at it, "the washing machine will clean it fine, maybe with a little Woolite on cold water, and--"

"Oh for God's sake!" Rodney said, loudly enough to interrupt all three of them. "You can't toss a silk shirt into the laundry!" He rolled his eyes, stalked over to Elizabeth and grabbed the shirt from her. "My mother might be dumb as a box of rocks, but even she knows you've got to dry clean fine silk. Does anyone have some kerosene?"

"Kerosene?" Elizabeth said, evidently appalled. "What are you doing to do, set it on fire?"

"No, of course not. Christ, you people are such morons. Where's that stupid bell?" John handed him the bell and with one clang, a small tub appeared, smelling like a camp lantern. Another ring and there were gloves to protect his hands. He swirled the shirt around in the tub for about five minutes then lifted it. "There you go. Clean as a whistle. Of course, we'll have to wait for the fluid to be extracted, but if you've got a washing machine, I can modify it to--"

The sound of a huge gong suddenly resonated throughout the room and made Ronon rear up on his hind legs and scream. 

"What the _hell_?!" Rodney yelled, dropping the shirt and clapping his hands over his ears. The resonation finally began to subside but the wailing didn't -- that was coming from the three women. Well, and Rodney too, because he forgot to take the gloves off and kerosene _burned._

"John! What have you _done_!" Elizabeth cried, lunging for John who rather neatly sidestepped her, moving to help Rodney wipe his hair and ears.

"You can't marry a man!" Teer cried -- literally, big, fat, insubstantial tears rolling off her vaporous face.

"He most certainly can, though I haven't said yes yet, and I don't recall actually being _asked_ ," Rodney griped, taking the handkerchief John offered and getting the rest of the kerosene off his ear. "Especially considering he's gay."

Elizabeth's eyes grew wide and she gasped. "John! No! You're... you're... you're not supposed to tell and I'm not supposed to ask! Please!"

John favored Rodney with a tepid glare before turning to Elizabeth. "First off, I'm not military and neither are you because this is a fractured fucking fairy tale. Second, yes, I am gay, as if the hair, the candles, and the sparkly curtains weren't clue enough."

Elizabeth staggered back against the wall, her hand to her mouth, looking very doyenne-ish. "But John!" Chaya cried (and yes, she was crying too), "what does this mean? Gay? I know you're happy but... but..."

Rodney made a rude noise. "He's queer as a three dollar bill. Bats for the home team. You know." At both Chaya's and Teer's obvious obliviousness, he threw up his hands and said, "HE TAKES IT UP THE--"

John slapped his hand over Rodney's mouth. "Chaya, I only like men. I mean, I like women, and I like you and you too, Teer; and Elizabeth, I like you too; but I love Rodney, I could never love you like I love Rodney, that's why I wanted him here, to show you that I love him. Ow." John pulled his hand away from Rodney's mouth once Rodney bit him. But only a little.

"You love me?" Rodney asked, only a little pissed.

"Yeah, I guess I do." John rubbed the back of his neck in a totally endearing kind of way. "And I kinda promised to marry you, with that whole shirt cleaning thing. I hope you don't mind."

Rodney thought about it for a minute, then shrugged. "I can get used to it."

"But what are _we_ going to do?" wailed one of the ditzes. 

Ronon snorted delicately. "Uh, you said you'd been a horse before..."

"Oh!" Chaya (Rodney _thought_ it was Chaya) blushed a little. "You mean, you'd be willing...?"

"Actually, it was me, and I was quite beautiful," the other one, Teer said. As if to prove it, she closed her eyes and concentrated. After about three minutes, she began to change, to become more substantial, to grow larger and bigger. While they watched, she turned into a simply gorgeous Lipizzaner filly. 

Ronon was impressed. He walked around her then nuzzled her chin. "Are you real?" he asked.

"Of course I am," she replied. "And I'll prove it to you, too," she added demurely.

"I think I can probably outdo her in that arena." At Chaya's words, everyone turned to discover she had turned into a spectacular golden Arabian. She was posing for them, and it was obvious that Ronon was impressed by her as well. 

Teer apparently wasn't happy about that, and the two fillies started bickering. Ronon immediately intervened. "Enough of that," he said, coming between them. "I can handle both of you. In fact, I will. We'll go through that ring thing to a place I know and we'll... see how it goes. Go meet me outside, I'll be right there." Still glaring at each other, Teer and Chaya left through the still-open front door.

John and Rodney grinned at Ronon as he approached them. "Always wanted a harem," Ronon said with a snort.

"Looks like you got one now, buddy," John said with a chuckle.

"Good luck," Rodney added, shaking his head. "I think you're going to need it."

With the Olsen Twins gone, only Elizabeth was left. She was still standing by the wall, looking very sad, betrayed, bereft and other emotions that the real Elizabeth Weir would never feel. "But what about me? What will happen to me now?" she sniffed.

"I promise, you will become a Jedi," John said solemnly, just to see if anyone had read this far. "But if you can show me how to use that stargate thing, there's this hermit guy on the other end who's not too bad. I think you might like him. He's got TiVo."

So, with all the estrogen having been purged from the Castle Atlantis, John and Rodney managed to live Happily Ever After. Mostly, anyway, because Rodney really was a pain in the ass at times. But Radek sent them a TiVo as a wedding present and that helped keep the peace.

end


End file.
